


Holding on (and letting go)

by Turtlebaby



Category: White Collar
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst, Emotional Porn, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 05:02:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1374778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turtlebaby/pseuds/Turtlebaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter's angry, Neal's upset, sex doesn't fix everything - but maybe it shakes some things loose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding on (and letting go)

**Author's Note:**

> Season 5 warped my brain. So, angry sex. Yes.

He knew he was angry by the way he was kissing him, with a frantic energy. More teeth than usual; more nips and growls and none of the slow steady heat that Peter was so good at. There was an undeniable urgency to the slide of his mouth and Neal pulled away gasping. “Jesus Peter.” The other man’s hands were busy tugging at his clothing, it felt like his belt slipped free at the same time his shirt slid off his shoulders and then his undershirt was separating Peter’s mouth from his neck and he felt the throb of the bruise that was sure to form. 

“Shut up, Caffrey.” Peter growled before he attacked again, his mouth and teeth working a trail down his neck and across his chest. 

Neal felt his breath hitch as Peter's stubble scratched across nipples still wet with saliva. And then his pants were around his ankles and Peter’s hand was cold and slipping inside his boxers and his grasp around his cock wasn’t any more gentle than the scrape of his teeth across his skin. Neal shuddered as the other man jacked him roughly. With his cock still in his hand, Peter leaned into him brought their foreheads together. “Why do you lie to me?” The words were a hot breath on Neal’s face. 

“I don’t.” Neal breathed back and tried to capture Peter’s lips with his own but was denied and Peter pulled back to stare him down. “Peter, I don’t.”

“An omission of truth is as bad as a lie.” And then Peter leaned in and pressed gentle kisses to the corner of his mouth but his hand continued it’s near brutal punishment of his cock. “I love you.” When he opened his eyes again, Neal saw tears shimmering there. “And I hate that I don’t know how to trust you.” When Neal pushed forward this time he was rewarded with the gentle kiss he didn’t know he’d been craving. He groaned into Peter’s mouth and raised his hand to stop Peter’s movements. 

“I’m sorry.” He meant it then, but he’d meant it a thousand times before and they both knew it was empty and wouldn’t mean anything after that night. Neal felt Peter’s shutters come back down just moments before he was spun around and pressed face first into the wall. “Fuck.” Peter’s fingers cold and wet as they slid down his crack. Neal wondered momentarily where he found lube so fast but then the fingers were pressing into him and he was too busy pressing back and chewing his lip to care that Peter had been so prepared for angry sex. 

They hadn’t been intimate since the morning Peter went to jail. It had been fast and anxiety filled and Peter’s kisses had felt like fear and fake confidence. And now this.

Neal grunted as Peter slid one finger out and replaced it with two, the new burn distracting him from wishing for before. “I miss you.” Peter sank his teeth into Neal’s shoulder and worked in a third finger. “Why does this have to be so hard?” Neal heard the pull of a zipper and the rustle of clothes as Peter fumbled with his pants one handed. “How can I need you like this when we can’t even be friends?”

Neal didn’t have words to console him. He didn’t have the heart to keep lying and tell him they’d be ok. He didn’t have the strength of will to turn and stop him and talk about this. The cold pit of fear in his belly had turned into a fire and he took the punishment Peter was doling out. He braced his hands against the wall and gritted his teeth around a gasp as Peter breached him slowly. His head found the wall again and he stared down at the floor as Peter’s thrusts picked up speed, his fingers digging nail shaped holes in his flesh and his anguish was evident in the force of his thrust. Neal’s silver tongue continued failing him, he just hung on for the ride.

“I hate not trusting you.” Peter’s voice was angry and hurt and right in his ear. “I’m worried, all the time.” Peter slid in until they were pressed tight together and held himself there. “I’m so scared of losing you.”

Neal shuddered and a tear hit the floor between his feet. 

Peter pulled back. “You risk so much.” Harder and faster, his words breathy and oddly punctuated. “And you don’t even seem to care.” He almost hid a sob but Neal turned his head and caught him, eyes clenched and lashes wet. “I don’t think you understand how you hurt me when you do something so fucking stupid.” His words were bitter and tinged with sadness. 

“Peter.” Neal fought weakly at the hands that confined him, not trying to get away, just trying to get his lovers attention. Peter slowed his thrusts and opened his eyes. He sucked in a gasp and stepped back, sliding from Neal’s body. Neal hissed at the loss but turned and stepped into Peter’s space. “Hey, no.” He pulled him in close, kissing tears from his cheeks and trying to ease the shudders that were rippling through Peter.

But Peter wouldn't let himself be comforted. He swore into Neal's neck and forced him back against the wall. It was an awkward series of movements, both men's pants still wrapped around their legs but Peter managed to step close enough to bring them together. "You, you do not get to feel bad." His arousal was heavy against Neal's thigh. "You do not get to use lies to make this better." The anger was back and he was rutting against Neal with fury. 

Neal had his head tossed back and against the wall, his hands bracing on Peter's shoulders. "I don't know how to fix this." He moved his hands up and held Peter's face, bringing his forward to meet his eyes. "But I want to."

Peter leaned in and caught the words as they left his lips. His mouth was hot and open and his tongue slid between Neal's open lips without asking for permission. He was breathless when he pulled back. "I wish I knew how to believe you." He reached between them and took Neal's cock in hand again. 

Neal's head fell back again and Peter assaulted his bared throat. When Neal groaned, Peter laughed. "Do you even know why I'm here like this?" He thrust against Neal's thigh a little harder. Neal shook his head without opening his eyes. "Because your body is always honest with me." Peter was quiet then, his mouth moved hot across Neal's skin and he continued his movements on Neal's cock, confident and steady until Neal stiffened against him and came into his palm. "It doesn't know how to lie." Peter rubbed against him a few more times before he came in hot ribbons across Neal's thigh. He stepped back and picked up Neal's undershirt from the floor, wiping his hand clean. He held it out and waited until Neal took it with shaky hands. Then he tucked himself away and yanked his pants up. 

"Peter..." Neal tried, and Peter winced. He looked wrecked. Pants around his ankles, crumpled shirt in hand, and Peter's cum drying on his leg. His face was tear streaked and guilt and fear played in his eyes. 

Peter clamped his own eyes shut. "I can't, right now, Neal. I can't. It’d be too easy to..." He turned and stumbled his way to the door. When he had the knob under his hand he turned around again. "If this is worth fixing, I'll ask you just once to try." He pulled in a deep shuddering breath. "It's trusting you that's hard, baby. Loving you is so easy it scares me." He pulled the door open and disappeared through it.

Neal wiped blindly at his leg with the shirt in hand and pulled his clothes up before sliding to the floor. He pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. He was alone then; utterly and with a finality that shook him. And when he finally broke down, he did it with absolute clarity: he had done this to himself. Peter hadn’t pushed him away - he’d just let go. He let go because it was too painful to hold on. He’d given him just enough rope to hang himself. 

But was hoping, faithfully, that he wouldn’t. Had tried to stop it, even. And he had the rope burns on his hands to prove it.

He fell asleep there on the floor with the dull cold ache as his only companion. He dreamt of nothing, because nothing is what he thought he had left.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments, Kudos, or concrit is always always welcome. Feedback of any kind is absolutely adored. Thanks so much for reading!


End file.
